Here is my new story guys. Further chapters of The Lost Child are currently not developed, so here I am to nag you with another one that has been lurking in my mind lately.

I hope you will like it.

PLEASE REVIEW. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM IS MOST WELCOME.

CHAPTER 1: REQUEST

Pemberley, 1808

Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy was melancholic. The physician, Mr Willowbark had told him to not to summon the specialist from London, that there was no hope. There was nothing that could be done to save the life of his esteemed father, Mr Robert Darcy.

Just that morning, his father had been involved in a riding accident. What sounded like a fusillade had startled his horse, Jeus, a young stallion who was not quite tame yet. Unable to calm the beast, the Master of Pemberley had fallen down and was trampled upon by the spooked horse.

Immediately, Mr Willowbark was summoned from Lambton, who had, after a thorough examination of his father, given the verdict that there was nothing that could be done for him. His injuries were too serious, so much so that it would indeed be a miracle if his father survived the night.

The only thing that could be done was to give him laudanum to lessen his pain. So, in a matter of few hours, not only was Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy facing the unparalleled grief of losing his last surviving parent soon, but also the daunting task of becoming the Master of Pemberley, which was claimed to be one of the finest estate in the kingdom.

He had not experienced such grief since his dear mother had perished, shortly after giving birth to Georgiana.

"Master Darcy, your father is asking for you. He refuses to take laudanum until he has talked to you." Sanders, a footman broke his painful abstraction.

With a heavy heart, he made his way to the Master's chamber. With a deep,fortifying breath, he entered the room and was pained to see his aristocratic father look so broken. After patting his back in encouragement, Mr Willowbark left to give them some privacy.

"You called for me, Father?" He uttered softly.

"You will make... such a fine Master of Pem...berley, Fitzwilliam." Robert Darcy rasped, each breath painful to him, but he had a task of utmost import to accomplish before he was released of his mortal coil.

"Father I..."

"No, do n..ot interrupt me. Let me...Come here...William." He whispered.

Fitzwilliam Darcy bent down, bringing his ear near his father's mouth, understanding the difficulty the older man was having whilst speaking.

"Protect her...Fit..zwilliam. Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Go to... Mr Bennet of Longbourn in Hert..for..dshire. He sh..all tell you. Tak...e care of her an...d Georgie." With these words, Mr Robert Darcy, the Master of Pemberley, breathed his last and closed his eyes in eternal sleep.

Longbourn, 1808

One month after the death of his father, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, called at Longbourn, just as his father had directed. The last month had been chaotic and agonizing. Not only had he a distraught younger sister who needed his comfort, but also the management of Pemberley. Furthermore, he was still to find out as to who had fired those shots and spooked Jeus, thus causing his father's death.

However, he had not forgotten his father's request on his deathbed. Hence, leaving Georgiana in his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam's care, who was also investigating his father's mysterious death at Pemberley, he had jouneyed to Hertfordshire.

He wished to get to the root of his father's enigmatic last wish for even his uncle, the Earl, who was also his late father's closest friend, had no inkling as to its reason. He had neither heard of the name Bennet, nor was he familiar with any estate called Longbourn.

So, there was no end to his surprise, when he was greeted by the elderly housekeeper of Longbourn in a most familiar fashion.

"Please accept my sincerest condolence for your loss, Mr Darcy. Your father was a great man." The portly woman said kindly.

"I thank you Madam. But how do you..."

"Your esteemed father had shown us a miniature portrait of your family. The family members he trusted with the responsibility of Miss Elizabeth, should something happen to him. He spoke very highly of you." The woman replied softly.

"You have me at a disadvantage Madam, since you seem to know so much about me, yet I am not acquainted with you." He said, ignoring the painful pang in his heart.

"I am Mrs Molly Hill. 'Tis a pleasure to meet you again, Mr Darcy." She curtsied.

"But of course!" Mr Darcy exclaimed in amazement, finally recognizing the woman in front of him. Years have passed since he last saw her, nearly a decade ago.

With fine lines crisscrossing her face, grey prominent in her hair, and her skin sagging due to her age, he had felt a strange familiarity when he first saw her, but had brushed it aside.

"Please come with me Mr Darcy. There is so much to explain." Mrs Hill said and led him to the Library.

There ensconced behind a huge, mahogany table was an elderly man, whom Mr Darcy had never seen in all his life. On seeing him enter his sanctuary, the man stood up.

"Ah...you have come to rob me of my only sensible daughter at last, Mr Darcy." He said, his soft voice belying his sadness.

Mr Darcy stared at him bewildered. For the life of him, he could not comprehend what was going on!